


Honey and Lavender

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [32]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 03:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14151108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: (Spoilers for 9x12 !)Molly is down to his last two sachets of lavender tea, but Caleb is having a bad day. He doesn't mind sacrificing for him.





	Honey and Lavender

Fjord and Caleb disappear up the stairs far earlier than they usually would, silently, with only a quick pat to Nott’s shoulder from Caleb. She’d watched him head up, and then gone back to drinking- not much trouble he can get up to in his room, after all. Fjord had fiddled with his bracers for a few minutes, then mutely followed Caleb’s footsteps.   
Molly, on his part, waits a few minutes longer before excusing himself. He tells Jester he needs to piss when she raises her eyebrows at him, and catches only the tail end of Nott’s comment about it burning, some reference to the hour he’d spent meticulously disguising his own dick the night before, at the hospital, and all for nothing.    
Well, discounting the deep sense of self-satisfaction. He’d kept that even through scrubbing himself clean.   
Gods, Molly wants a bath.   
He pads, quiet, up to the door of the room he shares with Fjord, he can hear raised voices from inside. He plasters himself to the wall beside the door to listen,   
“You- you say to me that you want to, to earn my trust, Fjord, and then I turn and you have a- a- a blade to my  _ throat- _ ”   
“Caleb, we were already in enough  _ shit,  _ we didn’t need you goin’ an’ fuckin’ us up! I, I know those scrolls are  _ important _ to wizards-”   
“You are telling me you did this to protect me, and yet you threatened me. You threatened my life, Fjord, I have seen- I- I have seen your work with that falchion, and, and not only me, you threatened  _ Nott _ too.”   
There’s a break, Molly readjusts, he can hear rustling, then the gentle bang. It sounds as though Caleb has backed up against the door. When he speaks again, his voice is louder,   
“Now me, my life, that is fair game. If I am to die, it is most likely deserved, but  _ Nott _ -”   
“She was threatenin’ me, too, Caleb.” Fjord’s voice is the flat, even tone that Molly knows is harshly restrained rage. “I wasn’t even  _ lookin _ ’ at her, my problem was with you an’ you exposin’ us.”   
“Well!” There’s a shuffle, “That makes everything  _ okay _ , doesn’t it? No, Fjord, I could have taken the scroll and, and learnt  _ new _ things, to improve upon myself and protect the party, our,  _ your _ so-called  _ friends _ better-”   
“No.” Fjord’s voice is so quiet, Molly has trouble making it out, and he readies himself to throw the door open and pull Caleb out of the warpath of Fjord’s cold rage, “No, don’t you fuckin’  _ dare _ pretend you don’t care about us now, Caleb.”   
“I do not.” Caleb’s reply is the same flat, cold, it chills Molly to the core.   
“That’s a fuckin’  _ LIE _ , Caleb!” Fjord’s voice crests just under what Molly would categorise as a roar, “You don’t trust us, an’ that’s all fair an’ well, I don’t fuckin’ blame you! But you care, maybe not abou’ me right now, but abou’ Beau! An’ Jester!” There’s a brief silence, Molly hears a heavy footfall, “An’ about Molly.”   
“Don’t- don’t bring that into this, Fjord, it holds no bearing on this- on this conversation-”   
“It holds  _ every _ bearin’, you can’t look me in the eyes an’ lie like you just did, Caleb, you care.”   
There’s a pause, a long quiet, it sounds like Caleb steps away from the door.   
“Do not follow me. I do not wish to see you again tonight.”   
Molly slips a few steps away into the shadows at the sound of the door opening, flattens himself to the wall in the direction opposite the way to Caleb’s room, and watches as Caleb himself storms out of the door and slams it behind him, so caught up in his own rage that he misses Molly’s piss poor stealth and strides purposefully to his own room.   
He disappears into the door and slams that, too.   
Molly makes for his and Fjord’s door, when he enters, Fjord is sitting on his side of the bed with his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes with the heels. He doesn’t look up when Molly enters, he’s memorised his step pattern by now, he inherently knows his roommate when he enters.   
Molly slips straight past him, to the pile of his own possessions in the corner, and roots around for a small wooden box, something precious and limited to him, he slips it from the bag into his pocket. As he passes Fjord on his way out, he pauses and sweeps down to press a gentle kiss to the edge of Fjord’s hairline, where his scar sends a shock of white through his hair.   
“I’ll sort it out.” He tells him, and Fjord lifts his head just long enough to butt it gently to Molly’s arm as he straightens up.   
“Thanks, Molly.”   
“You have to find me a tea shop tomorrow, though. I’m down to my last few sachets.” and he flashes a quick, bright grin before slipping away and out of the door.

 

He gives his signature knock at Caleb’s door, he wants to be obvious, no doubt left for him, and the door cracks open, slowly.   
“Mollymauk.” Caleb acknowledges, his tone is still the cold and flat of before, but there’s no tempered rage behind it, now.   
“Caleb! Good evening, can I come in?”   
Caleb pauses, eyes him,   
“It is late. What do you want?”   
“Your company and comfort.” Molly removes a strip of his armor to let a glimmer of the truth through. Caleb scruitionises him, and Molly is glad that he was honest, because he feels that Caleb is probably on high alert for the night. Eventually, Caleb steps back and lets the door swing open behind him, he makes his way inside and leaves Molly to close the door gently behind them both.    
There’s a lamp lit on the side, and Molly makes his way over there, first. His pockets are deep and full, he withdraws, first, a tiny black pot that is more accurately described as a teacup with the handle over the top. He fills it with water from his flask and carefully pries the top off of the lamp, he burns his hands a little, but he’s more resistant to that than most, it doesn’t bother him. He sets the pot over the flame inside to boil, Caleb has crawled onto his bed with a book and is pretending that he isn’t watching everything Molly does over the top of the pages.   
“Heard some banging and shouting from downstairs.” Molly says calmly, conversationally as he works, “Sounded nasty. Fjord shouting?”   
“We have some. Hm.  _ Differences _ in preference of how we run our practices.” Caleb smiles, bitter, Molly pulls a small jar of honey out of his pocket and sets it to the side.   
“Do you like tea, Caleb?” He asks as he peers into another pocket, searching for his spoon. Caleb’s eyebrows raise,   
“Tea?”   
“Yes, tea. I’m making you some, either way, I’m just curious.”   
Molly already knows the answer.   
“Yes, I enjoy it from time to time.”   
“What kind?”   
“I- I- what  _ kind _ ?” Caleb asks, “There are multiple types?”   
He thinks, he only really knows of variations on the basic. Molly nods,   
“There are multiples of multiples. Green tea, for example, which is supposedly very good for those that have been poisoned by the arcane, the wild, or their own alcoholism. Herbal, too, they’re often used for various things. This one,” Molly pulls the box out, “Is a personal favourite, I treasure it dearly. I use it for relaxation and help sleeping, after particularly traumatic events.” and it’s Molly’s turn to smile bitterly, now, “I last topped up in Trostenwald, yet I am down to my last couple of sachets. It has been a hard few weeks.”   
Caleb scuffles a little closer to the edge of the bed, a little closer to Molly.   
Molly produces two tin cups from another pocket. His spoon is jammed in between them, and he gives a wordless noise of something almost joyful, he sets them out.   
“You would share such precious reserves with me?” Caleb asks, incredulous, Molly squints at him. He can’t tell if Caleb is sincere, or mocking him, and he hates that he can’t read it.   
He turns back to his work, the water is bubbling gently in the metal pot, Molly leaves it a few more seconds as he sets his little wooden box down and carefully withdraws the two thin fabric pouches that contain the tea. He sets one in each of the tin cups, their ribbons trail over the edge, and he takes his tiny, ornate spoon, adds a spoon of honey to each cup, and turns back to Caleb for a moment,   
“How sweet do you like your tea?”   
Caleb studies,    
“How bitter?”   
“It’s mostly lavender.” Molly tilts his head, smiles, it’s so soft and warm that it thaws Caleb from the inside. He smiles, too,   
“Just one should be fine.”   
Molly nods, adds a second spoon of honey to his own cup, and gingerly lifts the little pot of water from the lamp. He stirs the honey spoon in the water, rinsing it of the excess honey, and then evenly, carefully pours the water equally into both cups. He sets the pot down and begins his cleanup, leaves the honey and the spoon on the side in case Caleb wants more, puts the top of the lamp back on. There’s no sign it was ever dismantled. He looks, somewhat sadly, at his empty box as he closes it and returns it to his pocket.   
Caleb sets his book down beside his bed, Molly slides Caleb’s cup closer to him on the shelf,   
“Give it a few minutes to cool and steep, it lets the flavours mellow.” Molly smiles, gestures to the bed beside Caleb, “May I sit?”   
Caleb looks from Molly to the bed,   
“Yes, of, of course.”   
Molly first takes his boots off, it’s a struggle without sitting down, but he finds it impolite to sit on someone else’s bed with them on. Eventually, he manages to wriggle out, sets them at the end of Caleb’s bed, and picks his cup up to carry with him as he sits, cross-legged, faces Caleb. He puts his cup on the floor next to the bed and folds his hands in his lap.   
There’s a quiet.   
“You know, this tea in particular is formulated to help with insomnia.” Molly tells Caleb, the ghost of a smile turning the edges of his lips. Caleb stares at him, wide-eyed,   
“How- how did you know that?”   
“Caleb, dear,” Molly leans over and sets a hand over the one Caleb has, resting on his knee, “I know because you and I are more similar than you can ever know.”   
“You and I are, are, are opposites, Mollymauk.” There’s a nervous laugh there, bubbling under the words, and Molly smiles as he takes the hand he was resting over,   
“In some aspects, yes. In others, not so much.”   
Caleb waits, silently, for him to continue, but he does not.   
“Are you going to tell me, or, or are you going to remain a mysterious motherfucker?” There’s a smile, a joke to his voice, Molly leans in and Caleb finds himself drawn, mirroring, they grow a little closer. And closer still, Molly’s forehead bumps, grazes Caleb’s, lightly,   
“Your tea should be cool enough to drink.” Molly’s voice is a whisper, and he leans, immediately, over the edge of the bed to pick up his own cup. He keeps one hand laced with Caleb’s, and meets his eyes until Caleb, too, turns to take his tea from the side.   
Molly raises the cup, a gesture, and Caleb mimics him. They drink together, Molly is pleased to hear Caleb hum, a pleasant noise, he watches Caleb close his eyes, almost a smile as he appreciates the warm, floral taste.   
“Ah,” he says, when he swallows, “This is, this is very nice tea.” and his eyes trail away, “Though I may add another honey, if you don’t mind?”   
“Not at all, go ahead.” Molly smiles warmly, gestures to the jar with his cup, Caleb looks to the hand currently in Molly’s grasp,   
“I may need to borrow my hand.”   
Molly gives a small snort of laughter, lets go, takes Caleb’s cup from his hand and holds it, balanced, on his own.   
Caleb adds another spoon of honey, lets it drip for a while, Molly watches intently. The honey slows from a string to a drip, drip, Caleb’s eyes raise to meet Molly’s.   
“You can lick it.” Molly smirks, and Caleb is like lightning. Molly settles his shoulders, freeing the tense excitement he hadn’t realised was being held there, he won’t be taking any more honey tonight anyway. Caleb twists the lid back on the honey and sets it aside, places the spoon beside it, takes his cup back from Molly, and they both sit and drink in silence.   
It takes a few gulps for Caleb’s hand to creep across and lace his finger’s with Molly’s again.

Molly pours plain water from his flask into the cups when they finish, swirls and places the cups on the side, Caleb half-hums, half-whines when Molly pulls away, so he pauses once he’s set the cups down and leans over to kiss Caleb’s forehead.   
Caleb’s hand brushes up to Molly’s neck, torn for a moment between clutching at the ruffles of his shirt collar, and running up his neck, he decides eventually on the ruffles. Molly is caught, honey trap, his eyes meet Caleb’s.   
And neither could pin who made the move, but in the next moment, they were kissing, soft, no heated desperation. Tired, warm, sleepy, the taste of lavender and honey sweet on their tongues and in the air between them, Molly takes his hands from Caleb momentarily, sheds his coat. Once free, one hand moves to Caleb’s cheek, cups his jaw, the other carefully flicks and undoes the belt fastening the scimitars to his waist, he lowers them, gentle, to the floor and crawls onto the bed beside Caleb, they don’t grow apart for a second, they never become more heated, only sleepy, warm, soft, Molly feels Caleb’s arms loop around his waist as they scramble down, with difficulty, into the covers of the bed.   
They break apart, finally, Caleb is flushed and ruffled, Molly suspects he looks much the same,   
“This is not, not, not just for tonight?” Caleb asks, there’s a hurt in the reflection in his eyes that cuts Molly to the heart of himself, he leans in quick to kiss Caleb’s nose,   
“No, dear, I should hope not.” He says, low, bumps his forehead to Caleb’s, and Caleb gives a sigh that could be relief or a laugh, he kisses Molly again, quick, sweet, each breath of lavender drags at him more, he just wants to sleep. When Molly talks, his words slur, like one slipping out of consciousness,   
“I can stay here?” he asks, Caleb can’t summon the energy to kiss him again, he presses his fingertips slightly harder into Molly’s back,   
“Forever.” He hums, and it’s the last coherent word in his mind before he fades into the soft, warm buzz of lavender-hazed sleep, the tastes on his tongue of his tiefling, colour and sensation melding gently into a deep, and dreamless rest.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a cup of lavender tea every friday night, it sends me right the fuck to sleep, i get up two and a half hours later to watch crit role. this is half a dream about fjord and caleb, and half me taking a breath and thinking "holy shit i can still taste that fucking tea"
> 
> also my lavender plant is called mollymauk and i add one of his leaves to my cup every week bc i love him.


End file.
